Blue Ribbon
by NancyMay
Summary: What if ... I have no idea what prompted this story, but it is what it is, a what if story.
1. Chapter 1

The light was too bright, her limbs felt like lead and her head was like cotton wool. Muffled voices were all around her, dark shapes moved in and out of her field of vision - she felt more frightened than ever. She had no idea how she had got here, wherever here was, or ... oh god, who was she, what was her name? Everything was a blank. A tear rolled out of her eye and down to her ear.

"Ah, you're awake," a voice murmured, soft and kind, "can you speak?"

She tried, but the she couldn't make the words come, it sounded more like a grunt.

"Sh, child, it will come," the voice whispered, "for now, rest. I'll get you a drink, see how that goes, eh?"

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She floated in and out of sleep, of consciousness, gratefully taking the water from a spoon until she could sip from the edge of a glass.

"Well," another voice spoke, a little stronger than the one she was used to, "I've phoned the police but no reports of missing children, we'd better give her a name until she remembers her own."

"She's obviously been given something," the soft voice whispered, "strong drugs."

"Hm, yes, quite possibly, but she was fully clothed so I don't think she has been interfered with."

"Sister, she's only about ten years old at the most," the voice rose with shock.

"Quite," the other voice grunted, "where are we up to in the alphabet?"

"J ... Jane?"

"That will do, for now."

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She sat in the sun, stronger now, but not enough to join the other children in school work. She accepted the name 'Jane', and her friend, the softly spoken nun Sister Bernadette, would read to her, talk to her about all sorts of things, anything to prompt her memory.

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Sixteen now, so they told her, ready to go out and do something in the world. She supposed she was grateful that the girls were not automatically expected to join the community and give their lives to God. Jane was an able student, had absorbed knowledge like a sponge, but had not regained her memory enough to send her back to her family. She accepted the name as her own, and had said it felt familiar, more than once. For a surname they had asked her to choose her own.

"You keep telling me I am always fishing for information as you did when I came here," she laughed at Mother Superior, so perhaps, 'Fisher', I shall be Jane Fisher, what do you think?"

"It sounds right, my dear," she had grown fond of the girl, so sweet, gentle with the younger ones, "so I shall register that. Now, you have given thought to our suggestion you go into nursing?"

"I have, and I think I would like that, but I should like to work with children, is that a possibility?" Jane nodded.

"Excellent, I shall see where I can secure a place for you, dear."

"Thank you Mother," she stood up and dipped a small curtsey. Mother Superior smiled as she left and wondered at the quiet strength of this girl that had come to them six years ago. Now grown to a pretty young woman, not too tall, her fair hair neatly tied up and always, somewhere, the now faded blue ribbon that had held one of her braids in place. She said it was part of her and she felt wrong without it.

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"Well, Nurse Fisher," the Nursing Superintendent sighed, "we shall be sorry to lose you, but the children's home will be gaining a wonderful nurse."

"Thank you, ma'am," Jane bobbed, "and thank you for everything."

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So Nurse Fisher settled into the children's home. She was gentle and kind with the children whose circumstances were no fault of theirs, the staff liked her, she was firm but fair and the visiting doctors relied on her to have all the details of the children to hand, if not in her memory.

As nurses came and went and Matrons retired and were replaced, Jane Fisher was the one constant some of the longer stay children could rely on. She dressed their cuts and bruises, comforted them when they were sad, played games with them in the gardens and read to them at night. It was at her suggestion that teachers were engaged to give a rudimentary education, reading, writing and arithmetic. Nurses were required to teach some domestic tasks such as sewing and anyone who could play the battered old upright piano played music for them.

Prospective adopted parents were now investigated as to their suitability to take on sometimes emotionally damaged children, to ensure they were not just looking for free domestic servants.

It was inevitable that she would take over as Matron one day and when that day came even the staff cheered. Young as she was nobody envisioned her marrying and leaving. Oh yes, she had caught the eye of visiting doctors and inspectors, police officers who brought abandoned children to her but as the nuns who had looked after her had dedicated their lives to caring for others so Jane Fisher dedicated her life to those abandoned children.

And so life went on in her small corner of Melbourne, untainted by the wilder goings on in the city, until ...

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"Thank you for coming so quickly, Inspector," she smiled at the handsome police man that had arrived, "I have no idea who the man is or why he should be lying dead at the gate to our vegetable plot."

He nodded and smiled and looked into her lovely eyes, eyes he thought were oddly familiar.

"Collins," he called over to his constable, "any ID?"

"None so far, sir," Hugh shrugged, "perhaps finger prints?"

"Send him to the morgue, I'll see Dr Macmillan there," Detective Inspector Robinson sighed, "now Matron," far too young and pretty to be a Matron, he thought, "perhaps you could tell me what goes on here."

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Matron's office was cool, a desk and chair sat in the middle facing the door, with two chairs in front. But it wasn't to this she directed Jack, it was to the couch in the bay window. As he sat he saw the walls were lined with pictures of the children, past, he supposed, and present. It seemed she had added her own personal touches to the room, with the couch and a display of garden flowers in a vase in front of the fireplace.

She told him how the home worked and admitted it was unusual to take such pains to ensure any child that was adopted was placed in a good home.

"You see, Inspector, I was found, unconscious and cared for by the nuns at the Sisters of Mercy. Nobody came forward to claim me and whatever drugs I was given robbed me of my memory, so I want to afford children who are abandoned the same chance." She smiled, he was so easy to talk to.

"So, this man," he wrote a few notes on her history, "you have never seen him before?"

"Well, there is a man who hangs around," she hummed, "I never see his face, but I don't like that a grown man should take such an interest in children, I am not so naive that I don't know there are people who ..." she hesitated to finish her thoughts.

"Quite, so ...?"

"James, our gardener usually sees him off," she smiled, "James has grown up here, he is a little simple so for his bed and board he tends the gardens for us."

"Do you think he would know him?"

"Please, feel free to ask," she stood up, "I'll come with you, he can be a little shy."

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James wouldn't look at the Inspector, he kept his head down and continued sweeping up ... nothing of consequence.

"James," Matron spoke softly and kindly, "the Inspector would like to know if you know the man who hangs around by the gate."

James mumbled something.

"It's quite alright, James, only a man has been found dead by the gate and we need to know who he is," she touched his arm, "you're not in trouble."

Jack wasn't so sure about that but if it got something out of the boy then he would leave it at that ... for now.

"Do you know his name?" She asked again.

James shook his head.

"Not even his first name?" Jack too kept his voice soft.

James shook his head again.

"Thank you, James," Jack stowed his notebook in his pocket, "well, for now, Matron I shall leave you in peace, but the constables will need to ask questions of the staff, and perhaps if the children have any comments to add ..."

"You would ask children, Inspector?" her eyebrows shot up to the line of her starched cap.

"No, Matron, not immediately," he tried to placate her, "only if they know something. Children can be remarkably observant, I have found." He thought of Jane Ross.

As he left he turned, "Matron, I'm sorry," he smiled, "your name?"

"Jane Fisher," she clasped her hands in front of her, "though part of that is the name the nuns gave me, and the other is because I was always fishing for information."

He blinked, they'd never found Janey's body, Foyle had sent them to a set of graves but not one of them held Janey. Phryne had railed at Foyle, sobbed in Jack's arms and thumped his chest so hard she had left bruises. Foyle had been killed in a prison fight that nobody saw, though Jack was under no illusion backs had been turned. It hadn't stopped Phryne's search for the truth, slowed it up and it was not the in the forefront of her mind, anymore, but she still kept the file and any bits of information that came her way. Could this be Janey? Was this why the eyes were so familiar? He would have to do some more digging before he put that to Phryne.

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Jack was glad Phryne was out of town, investigating in Daylesford. She phoned almost daily to see what he was up to and to let him know how her case was going, a case of blackmail that the victim insisted was kept very, _very_ quiet. It was a boring case, the victim, a wealthy young woman who had been seeing someone who wasn't her husband had been observed. The blackmail notes had started and just got more demanding as time wore on. She was running out of money to pay them and had eventually realised it wasn't going to stop. She'd heard Phryne Fisher was discreet and called her. Phryne had to keep calling Jack to keep a grip on her sanity as the young woman was still carrying on with her lover. Phryne could not get her to see that she needed to stop. Her husband was a pleasant enough chap, bland but pleasant, but - "Still waters run deep, Inspector," she breathed over the phone, one evening.

"Quite, Miss Fisher," he agreed, "so, how long will it be before you clear this one up?"

"Not long, I hope," she sighed, "I think I have an idea what is going on and if I'm right I think I'll double the fee and give it to a good cause."

"Plenty of those around."

"How's your case going?"

"Young man killed by the children's home. Not known to any of the staff, apparently he used to hang around the gate and look at the children. The gardener used to move him on, a simple lad, former resident." Jack gave her a quick rundown.

"How did he die?"

"Throttled, according to Dr Macmillan," he sat back in his office chair and put his feet on the desk as it wasn't currently occupied, "crushed hyoid bone."

"The gardener?"

"No, not him, scared of his own shadow," Jack huffed, "not any of the staff, I'm wondering about visiting doctors, perhaps."

"Well, I'll be back as soon as I can be, Jack," she breathed his name which did unseemly things to his nether regions, "perhaps I can be of some assistance?"

The only assistance he could think of at that moment was to relieve the tightness in his trousers.

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Jack and Hugh interviewed all the doctors that visited the home, tracking them down at their other places of work, hospitals and surgeries. Most were open about their admiration for Matron Fisher some admitted they were smitten with her, more than one said she was too pretty and too young to devote her life to abandoned children and should be stepping out with one of them. It was those that Jack concentrated on. He had no doubt that Matron could fend off unwanted attentions in a very gentle way but she had that inner core of steel that reminded him of the woman currently banging her head against a brick wall in Daylesford, but he didn't want Phryne back, just yet.

"Collins, nip up to the home and ask Matron about these three doctors," Jack handed him the files, "they are all too interested in her as a woman and potential wife. I'm wondering if they would see off this fellow permanently in a misguided attempt to show that they would protect her."

"Don't think she needs that much protection, sir," Hugh nodded, "I think the children and nurses are more than capable of doing that, if she can't do it herself."

"Quite."

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Speed was of the essence in Jack's side investigation. Phryne had called and told him she would be back in two days time.

He sat in Mother Superior's office, a little nervous. The last nun he had dealt with had been somewhat frosty. He couldn't have been more surprised when a cheery voice interrupted his thoughts and she sat down opposite him. She motioned him to sit, smiling at his perfect manners in standing as she entered.

"Now, Inspector," she hummed, "you want to know about Jane Fisher, I hear?"

"Yes, I don't know if you remember her," he relaxed, "she is Matron of the children's home."

"Oh I remember Jane, a lovely girl, perfect for the home. What do you want to know?"

"I should like to know where she came from and how?" he didn't think he'd framed that very well, but it seemed she understood him, perfectly.

"Jane was found in our church, unconscious, drugged. We cared for her, nursed her back to health and she stayed here to be educated before choosing nursing as a profession. She had no memory of her name or where she lived, but when we named her 'Jane', simply because that was where we were up to in the alphabet, she always said it had a familiarity to it," she passed a file over to him. "We do our best for these children, Inspector, no child was listed as missing at the time, we checked, so she became a ward of the church. She's not in trouble, is she?" She had a sudden thought.

"No, in fact, I have a feeling I may know who she really is. When I met her, her eyes reminded me of someone I know, very well." He took the file and scanned through the pages. All the dates matched those that Phryne had given him when they first tried to find where Foyle had buried Janey and the details of the drug used, which matched the effects they had had on Phryne that day he thought he was going to lose her, though Phryne had not suffered any memory loss. "May I borrow this?" he lifted the file.

"Of course, if it is the woman you are looking for please let me know. It would be good to know she has family, she deserves it."

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He sat in his office and read the file properly, all the details matched, everything, the clothes she was wearing and the state of them. They were out with her age by a year, but that was no matter. The one detail he was looking for was there - the blue ribbon. Phryne kept the one she had picked up at the circus, the one she kept as a reminder that she felt she had failed her younger sister. It went with her everywhere, tucked in her bag usually, occasionally fashioned into a bow and pinned to a matching blouse or dress by the ever faithful Dot, and if he couldn't see it he had no doubt it was pinned to her under clothing, in some way. Jane had one, always tied in her hair. As she always wore a Matron's nursing cap, Jack had only seen the hair that peeped from the band, as fair as Phryne's was dark. He believed he had found Janey, and that Foyle had no idea she had survived.

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Phryne had invited him to dinner, both cases cleared up. One of the doctors had killed the vagrant, in a vain attempt to show Matron how he would protect her, and also to remind her she was a woman in a man's world and needed protecting. While saddened at his action, Jane had given a huff he had not been able to hide his smile at, that she needed protecting. He wondered how she would feel at finding out her sister was a private detective and also had the same opinion of men who wanted to protect her. He wanted to protect Phryne - from herself, she could manage the thugs herself!

Her case had found that the lover was the one sending the blackmail letters, as she had feared.

"No one else could have done it, you see, Jack," she paused in eating her chicken, "he couldn't afford his extravagant lifestyle so chose to fund it through blackmail."

"So, what has she done about it?"

"Really, Jack, I could slap her," she put down her fork with a clatter. "She forgave the idiot and that is that. Her husband, poor soul, still has no idea, and I'm not going to tell him, so her life goes on as it did before, only now the lover doesn't have to blackmail her, she funds the dinners and what not herself."

"He's a kept man, then?" he smiled.

"He is."

They finished dinner chatting about this and that, she thought that the children's home would be a good cause to give the extra fee to, and he was rather glad she didn't know it was run by her sister.

"After all, Jack," she tipped her head and grinned, "I don't plan on becoming a parent myself."

"Though I am sure you would be a remarkable mother, if you did," he went a little red at this, it was a feeling he had long held, after she took in young Jane.

"Twaddle!" she laughed.

"Jane seems to have survived," he commented.

"Don't push your luck, Inspector," she stood and held out her hand, "care to try your hand at draughts?"

He was glad the conversation on childrearing had come to a natural conclusion, he was backing himself into a corner. He had hoped she would suggest draughts, it was when he planned to introduce his findings.

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He lost two games in succession, not because he wanted her to win, but because he was trying to summon up the courage to introduce the subject of her missing sister. In the end he decided to use the ribbon, tied to her wrist that evening, as an opener.

"I see you are sporting an unusual bracelet this evening, Miss Fisher," he nodded to the article.

"Dot suggested it as another way to wear it, you know I always do," she smiled.

"True, but," he sighed, "Phryne, what would you say if I told you I think I have found its partner?"

"Janey? You know where she is?" she swallowed a large mouthful of brandy.

"I am ninety-nine percent sure," he put his glass down and reached for her hand, "but first, if I am wrong, I am most dreadfully sorry to lead you down the wrong path."

"How? Where?" she stood up.

"Sit down," he pulled on her hand, gently, "I need you to read this, first."

He reached over to the side where an envelope leant against a decanter. Pulling a single sheet of paper from it he handed it to her and waited while she read how the child had come to the nuns. It was only the start of the story but it was the part she had to digest first, ask questions on if she felt the need.

"Jack, it sounds so possible," she whispered, tears in her eyes, "but this is only how she was found and that nobody reported a child missing. Father was supposed to have done so."

"The Mother Superior assured me they had asked at all the stations but nobody had reported your sister missing."

"So they kept her." She put the paper down, imagining her sweet sister toiling away in a catholic orphanage and now living as a nun.

"They cared for her, Phryne," he touched her hand, "educated her, as they did all the children they had there, set her on the road to a career as a nurse."

"I thought ..."

"That she would be wearing the veil, or crushed by the weight of the church. Not all nuns are like the ones who dealt with the girls at the laundry, some are actually rather nice." He smiled. "Tomorrow I shall take you to the woman I believe is your sister. She knows nothing of you, though I did think maybe I should warn her you are here in Melbourne. But then, she wouldn't know of your elevation to the nobility, would she?"

"This is something to do with your case, isn't it? You have to tell me that much, I shan't sleep if you don't," she urged, "please, Jack."

"It is," but he would say no more.

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Matron was surprised to get a call from the Inspector, again, asking her if she minded him bringing someone to see her.

"I don't of course, Inspector, but ..."

"I'm afraid it is a sensitive issue, Matron," he smiled down the phone, "but I should be prepared for a surprise, even a shock."

"Oh, goodness!" he could almost see her eyes widen, just like Phryne's did when surprised.

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Phryne wasn't sure if he was taking her to a nunnery or to a house of ill repute, so dressing was a problem the following morning. Eventually she settled for white trousers, white silk top with fine straps and her black and white coat and hat. Janey's ribbon was pinned to where the left strap of her top met the body.

Jack insisted on driving in his car, she would be too distracted to drive herself and indeed she bombarded him with questions all the way to the children's home. So intent was she in getting any information out of him she barely noticed which way they were heading.

He congratulated himself on being able to redirect her questions so when they pulled up at the children's home she was quite surprised. It surely held a link to Janey, thinking back to their conversation the previous evening.

He held the door for her and offered her his arm, which she accepted graciously.

"It's rather nice," she observed, "not at all what I would expect."

He nodded in agreement, "there's James," he pointed to a young man sweeping up grass cuttings, "he used to send the vagrant off with a flea in his ear."

"A brave young man," she smiled in his direction, "he could have got himself into all sorts of trouble."

"Indeed," he steered her to the front door, "the Matron is waiting for us."

"Jack?" she looked at him but his face was a mask.

"Oh, Inspector Robinson," a nurse opened the door, "Matron said I was to rustle up some tea when you arrived. She's in her office," she nodded to Phryne, "Miss."

"Good morning," Phryne smiled and thanked her.

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Jane had watched them walk up the path. Jack had never mentioned he had a wife, and this lady didn't look the sort to be married to a police officer. Surely they weren't looking to adopt a child. Jane couldn't imagine the reaction to sticky, jammy fingers on those white trousers.

"Inspector Robinson, Matron," the nurse let the visitors into the office, "tea will be along shortly."

"Thank you, Nurse Donovan," she turned to Jack, "Inspector, lovely to see you again, though I thought the case was solved."

"It is, Matron, this is another case, an old one, if you choose." He drew Phryne's attention away from the pictures on the wall, "may I present Miss Phryne Fisher, your sister."

"Phryne," she whispered and fell into the couch, suddenly to fog cleared.

"Janey?" Phryne blinked, "is it really you?"

"Well, they called me Jane when I turned up at the church," she patted the couch, "sit, please. Phryne, ha," she laughed, "we had a little girl arrive at the home, 'P' was the letter we were up to so I chose Phryne, not knowing where I had heard it before ..."

Phryne reached over and touched her face, expecting it to melt into mist, like it did in her dreams, "Janey," suddenly she laughed, "you named a child in a catholic children's home after a Roman courtesan," she fell into Janey's arms and sobbed with relief.

Jack quietly withdrew to let the sisters talk, tell their stories.

"Tell Miss Phryne Fisher to call when she wants me to collect her, please," he tipped his hat at Nurse Donovan, "I think I'm surplus to requirements."

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It was late when he called to collect her. No phone call had happened so he had phoned the home himself to see if they had had enough of each other. The two sisters had talked as much as Janey's duties allowed her, Phryne had dined with the staff and children, a situation she found odd in the extreme, and watched Janey competently and gently deal with the children, organise games in the garden and see them off to bed.

They were drinking tea in the office when he arrived so he waited until they had finished.

"Well, Inspector," Janey teased, "you are a dark horse. How long have you suspected?"

"Your eyes gave it away," he smiled, "you have the same eyes."

"And a little detecting as well, I suppose," she smiled, "thank you, for filling in the pieces. There was always something missing, something to do with this," she took off her cap and showed the ribbon holding her fair plait in place. "Phryne has shown me that she kept the other."

"Yes, if I can't see it it is usually in her bag," he thought he ought not to mention she probably attached it to her underwear, he didn't know how either of them would feel about his thoughts on that.

"Janey has promised to come to dinner next week, you will join us, won't you, Jack?" Phryne slipped her hand round his bicep, "please?"

"I would think I would be surplus to requirements if the Fisher sisters are reminiscing," he patted the hand.

"Nonsense, Inspector," Janey laughed, "if it hadn't been for you, there would be no reminiscing."

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"Thank you, Jack," she sighed, sleepily, "for all this that you have done."

"My pleasure, Phryne, my absolute pleasure," he drove them home, noting the calm face and relaxed shoulders.

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"Whisky, Inspector?" she turned her key in the door, "care to let me beat you at draughts, again?"

"You must be tired," he smiled, prepared to head home, alone.

"A little but not ready to sleep," she admitted, "I suppose I am still a little excited."

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She told Jack how Janey refused part of the inheritance, saying she would only spend it on the home so she proposed that she would make sure there would always be funds to keep it going.

"I think I can have a fund set up for it, from my money," she pouted as he took her last piece, "perhaps help out with the cost of the teachers."

"I think that sounds like a good idea," he set out the board again, "perhaps help the older children find employment or help them to further their education, like the nuns did for Janey."

"A scholarship, you think?"

"Perfect," he agreed, taking two pieces, "you're not concentrating."

"I don't know how to thank you, Jack, I really don't," she sipped her whisky, "is there anything ...?"

"I'll settle for a kiss," he winked, "if you've a mind ..."

"Just a kiss, Inspector ..?"

He smiled and shrugged his shoulders.

'Perhaps,' she thought, 'one now and maybe one in the morning, who knows ...'

She smiled back ... and wiped the board.


	2. Chapter 2

Phryne knew she had to tell Aunt Prudence, it was her first thought when she woke up the following morning. Not that she had finally enticed Inspector Jack Robinson into her bed; she owed him a kiss; but that Janey had been found, safe and well.

She nudged the adorably dishevelled Inspector, snoring softly at her side. He grumbled and turned over, she smirked, seemed he wasn't a morning fan, either, but it had been morning when they had finally fallen asleep. She sighed and decided to go to the bathroom and then ring for coffee and toast, then she would see what the day held. She wondered if Jack had the day off, or did he have to go into the station. Not that she had anything special for him to do ... well nothing to do with cases anyway. She was still thinking very wicked thoughts when Dot appeared bearing a tray and the morning paper.

"Morning, Dot," Phryne grinned, "isn't it a lovely day?"

Dot raised her eyebrows, the curtains were still over the windows so her mistress had no idea it was raining, hard.

"If you're a duck, Miss," she smiled shyly placing the tray on the bed. "Shall I fetch a second cup?"

"Please, I expect Jack will need it," Phryne nodded and poured herself a cup of Mr Butler's wonderfully strong coffee.

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"I didn't know Miss Fisher had an overnight guest, Dorothy," Mr Butler hummed as she collected the cup and saucer.

"It's the Inspector, Mr Butler," she grinned, "and Miss Fisher is in a very good mood this morning."

"I see," he smiled back, "well it had to happen sometime. She finally wore him down."

"Mr Butler!" Dot pretended to be shocked, but she too had wondered when Jack would eventually give in.

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Phryne couldn't keep the skip out of her step or the smile off her face all morning. She told Dot and Mr Butler what had happened and they were equally delighted for her. Mr Butler immediately began making plans for the dinner to be held the following week, Dot asked if she could do anything for the children, knitting perhaps, and Phryne indulged her in that.

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Prudence Stanley lifted the receiver and sat down to listen to Phryne tell her the latest in her detecting. She really wished she would settle down. Phryne started by telling her she was back from Daylesford and would someone save her from stupid women.

"Now Phryne ..." Prudence started to say something about it being the man who was stupid, in this case.

"Huh," Phryne blew out, "well, that's as maybe I have a much better story to tell you. I dare say you saw it in the papers, about the murder at the children's home?"

"Well I may have glanced at it," Prudence sighed, "what of it, I take it the Inspector dealt with it?"

"He did, but there was another case he cleared up, while he was there," Phryne was have trouble being mysterious but blurting out that Janey was alive and well would probably result in the woman having a heart attack, "he noticed a similarity between the matron and someone else he knew."

"Phryne, stop beating around the bush, out with it, child!"

"Are you sitting down?"

"Of course I am, your stories are always too long, dear, for me to remain standing," Prudence huffed.

"It's Janey, Aunt P," Phryne laughed, which Prudence found odd, "Janey is the Matron there, Janey's alive, Aunt P, he found her for me!"

"Phryne!" Prudence shrieked, "no!"

"Yes! It's true, I went to see her yesterday," Phryne started to ramble through her visit to her sister, "please come to dinner with us next week, Janey, Jack and me, oh do come, you must!" She was like a child whose Christmases had all come at once.

"What day?" Prudence choked, "of course I'll come." She checked her diary as Phryne told her the day, and scribbled out the dinner with some hospital board members, this was far more important. She put down the phone and burst into tears.

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Phryne decided she had better inform her, no, their parents that Janey was alive. She hoped they wouldn't drop everything and sail over, not that she didn't want her mother to see her younger daughter, but one of the memories that had resurfaced was their father's treatment of them, when he got drunk. Fear had flashed across Janey's eyes when she thought of the beatings she had endured at his hands and she had only relaxed when Phryne had told her they lived in England now, so if he was on his way they had time to plan how to deal with him. Of course Henry was still unpredictable. She could ring, although it would take forever to get through and the line wouldn't be reliable, so she resolved to write a letter - to her mother. It would take over a month to get there, but a telegram would have them booking a berth on the next ship out, and she didn't want that, she wanted to explain to her mother how Janey felt about her father, that she had the memories of a little girl. Phryne had grown up and seen him for what he was and was able to deal with him when she saw him, which was thankfully, rarely.

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Phryne phoned Janey every day. Jack thought it was as if she still didn't believe it, that Janey was alive. It made him happy, more than happy, to see her like this, free of the one sorrow that had plagued her for years and he stayed more nights than he didn't. They seemed to slip into the relationship she had never aspired to and the one he did. He did wonder how long it would be before she tired of him but for now he was content.

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Phryne sent Cec and Bert to collect Janey for dinner. She had told her sister to expect them and told her they were the salt of the earth and she was perfectly safe with them.

"Phryne, dear," Janey had giggled down the phone, "I don't need protecting, not now."

"Sorry, it's just ..." her sister sighed, "I failed back then."

"Hey, miss," she tutted as if to a small child, "I don't ever want you thinking that, d'you hear?"

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"Definitely Miss Fisher," Bert grumbled as they watched Janey walk to the car, "see that walk?"

"Yeah," Cec got out and opened the door, "right enough. Miss," he nodded.

"Thank you, er ..." now which was which?

"Cec, Miss," he closed the door gently.

"Thank you, Cec."

There was silence for a while then Janey spoke.

"My sister hasn't asked the whole of Melbourne, has she?"

"Nah, she wouldn't do that," Bert looked through the mirror, "jus' the Inspector and Mrs Stanley."

"Oh, good," she sat back, relieved. "My aunt, she's alright?"

"Giddy as a schoolgirl," Bert laughed, "not seen her like this since Arthur passed."

"Phryne told me, so sad, he was such a sweet boy, I remember, partial to gobstoppers and scallop pies."

"That he was, Miss," Cec nodded.

She giggled, "sorry," she composed herself, "it's just that Aunt Prudence giddy as a schoolgirl is not a way I would ever describe her."

"Me neither," Bert agreed, though he was fond of her.

"Here we are, Miss," Cec got out as they pulled up outside Wardlow, "ready?"

"As I'll ever be," she got out and smoothed down her dress, she felt strangely under-dressed.

"You look great," Cec whispered, as if hearing her thoughts.

"Thank you, Cec," she smiled, his little compliment gave her a little more courage. She had little spare money to buy fancy dresses so had taken her favourite one out of the wardrobe. It was one she felt able to dine in with those who donated to the home. Pale blue cotton voile, fitted to the waist and nipped in with a narrow belt. The skirt had inserts around the low hip-line that made it flutter round her calves. The upper bodice was made of lace overlaid with a collar in the blue voile that spread across the arms to form a cape like sleeve. Her fair hair was rolled into a high bun with soft curls at the side, and the pale blue ribbon was tucked into the side of the bun.

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Phryne had dressed modestly, for her, in burgundy silk and black lace. Her under-dress was simply cut with fine straps and the over dress was of embroidered black lace with a soft 'V' neck and was sleeveless. t fell to her knees. The ribbon was tied to her garter. She had been sitting on the window seat, waiting. When the car drew up she flew to the door and skipped down the steps and path to envelope her sister in a warm hug.

"Come in, come in," she took her hand and pulled her up the path, "Aunt P can't wait to see you."

"Slow down, Phryne," Janey laughed, "you always were so impatient, and I see you haven't changed. How does the Inspector cope?"

"He rolls his eyes and sometimes gets cross, but we get by," she shrugged, then stopped and turned, "you do realise how close we are, don't you?" she held Janey's hands and looked into her eyes.

"That your relationship isn't exactly chaste? I do," she nodded, " and it's your life, Phryne. If you're happy, then so am I. He is rather handsome," she winked.

"Janey Fisher, have I got competition?" Phryne muttered.

"I could never compete, darling sister," was the reply.

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Prudence was standing in the parlour wringing her hands and praying this wasn't some elaborate joke, but when the two entered, arm in arm all her fears melted away. Her girls were side by side as they had always been, Janey on Phryne's left, giggling about something.

"Oh, goodness," she hiccupped, "it really is you, Janey. Oh my darling girl," she opened her arms and lifted her face to accept a kiss to the cheek.

"Hello Aunt Prudence," she smiled, "how are you?"

"So much better for seeing you, I really wasn't sure ..."

"After all this time, that's understandable," Janey sat down and accepted a sherry from Mr Butler.

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Dinner was a lively affair. Janey told more of her life with the nuns, Phryne told enough of her life that was seemly and Jack added little stories of Phryne interfering in his cases. Janey asked him how he coped, he just replied that Phryne kept good whisky and was most insightful in her knowledge of the human condition.

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As Prudence left she told the sisters she had telegrammed their parents to give the good news.

"Prudence!" Phryne shrieked, "no! I wrote to mother, they'll be half way here by now."

Janey went pale, but was quieter in her admonishing of her aunt, "I'd rather you hadn't, Aunt Prudence. I knew Phryne had written, but she wrote to mother and explained why I don't want to see father."

"But ... it's such good news," Prudence couldn't understand why it should be kept from them, "and a letter will take a month, at least."

"I will be happy to see mother," Janey sighed, "but I want nothing to do with father, my memories are not good, of our relationship, Phryne understands."

"I'll come over and see you, tomorrow, Aunt P," Phryne sighed, "I'll explain, properly. Anyway you don't like father anymore than I do."

As they watched the older woman leave Phryne squeezed Janey's hand.

"Don't worry," she whispered, "we'll keep him away, and neither will be told where you are, if that's what you want."

"Thank you, Phryne," Janey sighed, "I know it seems harsh, but it's not just my experiences, I've seen it with the children who come to us, terrified of brutal fathers who drink to excess."

"I can ensure there is a guard at the home," Jack suggested, "if that would help, just while they are here."

"I don't want you to go to any trouble, Inspector," she blushed slightly.

"It's no trouble, just trying to keep the citizens of Melbourne safe," he gave a mock salute, "and it's Jack," he reminded her, "please."

"Thank you," she smiled, "well, some of us have to be up in the morning. Thank you for a lovely evening, Phryne, and don't be too hard on Aunt Prudence, she only did what she thought was right. I don't suppose it would occur to her that I don't want to see father."

"Believe me, Janey," Phryne kissed her cheek, "I'm not looking forward to it, either."

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The month between the dinner party and the imminent arrival of Baron and Baroness Fisher passed all too quickly. Phryne had arranged that they stay with her, mainly so she could keep an eye on her father. Jack suggested he go home while they were there but Phryne was having none of it.

"Oh no you don't Jack Robinson," she glowered, "if you like you can have the room across the landing from mine and come over when they have retired for the night, but no way are you leaving me with father."

"I just didn't want to be in the way," he stroked her cheek, "but if you want me to stay, I will."

"Thank you, Jack," she relaxed, "it's just if I have to justify Janey not wanting to see him I might need back-up."

"Is he likely to get violent, now you are a grown woman," he questioned her need, "only fathers who beat their children usually stop when they become big enough to fight back?"

"Drunk and difficult, more than violent," she sat down on the piano stool, "loud."

"I see," he sat next to her, "well, we shall keep him away from Janey, that's the most important isn't it?"

"Yes, thank you Jack, for the offer of protection," she put her head on his shoulder, "play for me, please."

He thought for a moment then:

"Like the beat, beat, beat of the tom tom," he began,

"When the jungle shadows fall,"

"Like the tick, tick, tock of the stately clock,

as it stands against the wall," she continued.

"Like the drip, drip, drip of the raindrops," Jack took over,

"When the summer shower is through

So a voice within me keeps repeating"

She joined him on the next line, "you, you, you."

When they had finished she wriggled closer and sighed softly.

"Thank you."

"My pleasure," he shifted a little, not enough to have her move her head, "come on, bed."

"Inspector," she teased, "you devil."

"Hm," he pulled her up, "well, I have been trained by the best."

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Phryne had to greet her parents on her own, Jack was busy in court. She asked the red raggers to take charge of their luggage but she drove them back to Wardlow in the Hispano. She drove at her usual speed, which earned her a reprimand from her father.

"Feel free to get out and walk, father," she replied through gritted teeth.

"Henry, that's enough," her mother drew her brows in, "she was kind enough to come and get us herself."

"Will Janey be at dinner, dear?" Margaret asked.

"No, she is busy," Phryne pulled up outside the house, "we will make arrangements in the coming days."

"But you see her, often?"

"About once a week, depending on how busy she is or I am, but we keep in touch by phone," Phryne smiled, "dinner is rare," and it was. They had decided they wouldn't live in each other's pockets but were as close as they were when they were children. Either one would ring the other for a quick chat in the evenings, if Janey had to come into the city she would make sure she popped over to Wardlow for tea, occasionally lunch and if Phryne was anywhere near the children's home she would call in to say hello, usually armed with a basket of Dot's biscuits or a bundle of knitting. The children were always cheered by the sight of Miss Fisher's car.

Phryne's life was settled, still interesting with her still working as a Lady Detective, but she was happier than she had been in many a year, and her father was not going to spoil it.

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She left her parents to freshen up after their journey and went to sit in the parlour.

"Tea, Miss?" Mr Butler poked his impassive face round the door.

"Soon, Mr B," she sighed, "but, would you mind, only I've already had a few words with father ..."

"A small whisky it is then," he retreated and was back so quickly Phryne was sure it was already poured and on the tray in the hall.

"Thank you, you are pure gold, Mr B," she raised her glass and downed the drink in one.

"Miss," he nodded in that way he had, his all seeing, all knowing way, and retreated with the evidence.

She giggled quietly.

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Margaret was first down the stairs, full of praise for her daughters hospitality, the room was lovely, she smiled, "not even your father can find fault with it."

"Well, that's a first," Phryne patted the couch next to her, "sit down mother, tell me how things are."

"Well, he spends an awful lot of time at his club," she mused, "he still drinks far too much and still has outlandish ideas for money making schemes."

"Mother, about Janey," Phryne wanted to get this over with before her father made an entrance, "she ..."

"... wants nothing to do with him, I suppose," Margaret pursed her lips.

"Mother, her memories of him are coloured, of being beaten when he was drunk, locked in the cupboard," Phryne sighed, "and if the nuns could find no record of her reported as a missing person ..." she let the sentence hang in the air.

"He swears he did report her missing," Margaret muttered.

"He wouldn't remember, it's been years, and he had probably called into a drinking establishment on the way. If he smelled of drink who would take him seriously."

"Oh, Phryne, all those missed years."

Phryne privately thought Janey had been the lucky one, she had not grown up in the lap of luxury but in a place of peace and calm, where she was loved, to a point, certainly made to feel she had worth.

"So," Margaret decided to change the subject, "whose is the room opposite yours, surely not your maid's."

"Dot lives in a room upstairs, no, that's Jack's room," Phryne smiled naughtily, "well when I don't want him in mine."

"Phryne!"

"Oh come on mother, you know about Jack, and you know I'm not sweet and innocent," Phryne laughed.

"To a point I know about him, that he is a police officer, and you both work cases together, but ..."

"Yes mother we live in sin," Phryne heard footsteps outside, "now, I think that is father's tread, so ..."

"We shall talk about this later."

Phryne rolled her eyes and prepared herself for the evening. 'Please, Jack,' she thought, 'be on time, or early.'

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Jack looked at his watch and decided he didn't have time to go to the office, straight home if he didn't want to be consigned to the little room opposite hers. He had to be back at the courthouse the following morning to hear the verdict but that wasn't until ten o'clock, he could either go to the office and deal with any paperwork, or have a lie in, he'd leave that to Phryne. A rash decision but she wasn't looking forward to her parents' visit.

He spied Cec and Bert's taxi, lurking round a corner, ha! sent, he thought. Well it was better than the tram or finding a Melbourne taxi. He waved, Bert waved back and they pulled up, "Taxi, sir?"

"221B, The Esplanade, please," he got in like any usual fare, "have her parents arrived?"

"Yer," Bert muttered, "on time, 'bout. Brought enough stuff for a year."

Jack rolled his eyes and fervently hoped he was exaggerating.

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Phryne had never been so grateful to hear his key in the door, and Mr Butler mutter his greeting.

"That you, Jack?" she called, hoping he would at the very least poke his head round the door.

In the hall he inhaled and straightened his shoulders, "who'd you expect?" he grinned, entering the room.

She leapt up and went to kiss him, firmly on the lips.

"God, am I glad to see you," she murmured into his ear.

"I'll just go and change," he kissed her gently, "won't be long."

Margaret watched this exchange, silently musing he was the best looking Detective Inspector she had ever seen, and that this was an almost domestic interlude.

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Dinner was tense, was how Jack would describe it, Phryne could barely look her father in the face every time he mentioned meeting up with Janey.

"If I'd known when you were coming," she snapped, finally, "I could have made arrangements, but she is so wrapped up in her work finding time in her schedule will be difficult."

Margaret could see this was upsetting her, "now Henry," she reached over and touched his hand, "both Phryne and Janey are busy people, we shall just have to be patient." She turned to Phryne, "there are plenty of old acquaintances we can see, dear, don't worry."

"Thank you, mother," she heaved a sigh of relief, "I did write to you, to let you know, I thought a telegram was not the type of communication for this."

"Well, Prudence sent a telegram, as you know," Margaret smiled sympathetically, "so we booked the first passage out."

"Mm," Phryne hummed.

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"That was awful," Phryne fell onto the bed, "how on earth am I going to keep him away from Janey?"

"You may just have to be blunt," he leant over her, "but it isn't going to be easy, now, I've had a hard day in court and you are strung out, how about ..."

"Oh please," she grinned and opened her arms to him.

True it wasn't the best way to resolve issues, but it did reduce the tension in a rather wonderful way. She could think about the problem tomorrow, for now ...

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"You know," she sighed, satisfied, pink and completely relaxed, " I told mother we live in sin, today."

"Really, " he raised an eyebrow, "and I thought we lived in Melbourne."

She batted his shoulder, lazily and curled into his chest, "love you," she murmured.

"Love you too," he kissed her forehead.

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Jack didn't like that Henry was huffy about not being able to see his younger daughter. He asked too many questions of himself and he heard of him inquiring others about charitable institutions and their managers, or leaders. He rang Phryne from the station after one particularly worrying call.

She was there far too soon he thought, but given the circumstances...

"I think he's worked out where she is," he indicated she sit, "but I have sent Hugh up there, with instructions to keep any but doctors away."

"Jack ...if she sees him ..."

"Quite, today I give you permission to exceed the speed limit," he stood up and grabbed his hat and coat. "Come on!"

"Right," she shook her head, and told herself to get a grip.

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They were there in no time, it seemed to Jack, but he wasn't looking at the speedometer, he just held on to his hat. He wasn't going to let her lose what she had so longed for, not because of him. He had quickly got the measure of her father over the days they had entertained them. Margaret he liked, she seemed to understand both her daughters, Henry was rapidly driving him up the wall, so what he was doing to Phryne he could only guess at.

"Any sign, Collins?" Jack fairly leapt out of the Hispano.

"Not yet, sir," Hugh sighed with relief, "Matron is in her office, she is ... er ..."

".. like her sister?" Jack offered his hand to Phryne, not that she needed it, but ... propriety ...

Hugh cleared his throat in acknowledgement.

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Janey was pacing when Phryne flew in through the door and wrapped her arms around her.

"He won't touch you," she gasped, "never."

"Phryne," Janey turned and fell into her arms, "it's just that my memories can't be erased. He was a terrible father ..."

"Still is," Phryne huffed. "I'm so sorry, Janey, he shouldn't have found you."

"He didn't make this much effort when whatisname abducted me," Janey snapped, "why now?"

"If I knew that I think I'd have the answer to all the world's ills," She replied, "now, no need to hide, if he gets here then let him have it. I won't leave until I know you are safe."

"Phryne ..."

"I'm here, so is Jack, you are safe."

Something about Phryne's stance and tone of voice told he she would be safe.

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Henry roared up in a taxi, strode up the path and demanded to see Janey Fisher.

"We have no one of that name here, sir," one of the nurses smiled, "perhaps you have been given the wrong information. None of the children have the name 'Janey'."

It was true that none of the children had been given that name, but also the nurses only knew Matron as Matron Fisher, or Miss Fisher; her private life was just that - private.

"I'm not after a child," he blustered.

"Well," Nurse Donovan smiled, "that's all we have here, sir, perhaps you have come to the wrong place."

"No!" he snarled, "I know she is here," he pushed passed the young woman and stamped up to the door.

"That's as far as you go, sir," Hugh put his hand out, "nothing for you here." It was a remarkable thing for Hugh, normally almost timid, but Jack had told him to stand firm, whatever. "Matron does not want to see you."

Henry was drunk, the one thing Janey feared, so drunk that a constable of the Victorian police force would be hard pressed to stop, he was strengthened by the brandy he had consumed.

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Up until now Janey had clung to Phryne but now, hearing the shouting, the snarling of the man who dared to call himself 'father' she rose. Angry, determined and decided. Janey would send him away.

"Get off this land!" she shouted, "you are not welcome here!"

"Janey," he held his hands out.

"I am Matron Fisher, and you are not welcome here!"

He continued towards her until he was close enough to touch her.

"Get out," she hissed, "you did nothing to find me, and you know what, I'm glad. I was loved, cared for and given a chance. Not what would have happened if I had stayed as your daughter."

"Phryne ..." he looked around for his elder daughter.

"... is strong and brave and I am proud she shook you off, proud she found me through her own tenacity, because, father," she stressed this last word, "you got drunk and forgot to report me missing. Well, guess what, I am still gone, from you."

Phryne stood aside and let her sister get everything off her chest, god, she was proud of her, a strength she never thought she would see or hear. She resisted the temptation to applaud but stepped forward to stand with her.

"I think you'd better leave, father," she murmured, "Janey has things to attend to."

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Margaret joined Phryne and Janey for tea, but the conversation was stilted. After Henry's visit there was never going to be peace. Though Janey had had a childhood that was far better than the one that she could have had, the knowledge that her father had done little to find her drove a wedge between her and her parents.

Janey tried to take the salvation the church offered her but in the end it was Phryne, the Protestant half of the duo that told her to let go.

"They did, all those years ago, Janey," she hugged her sister, "it was always just us."

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It was always just them, with Jack in the middle, to the end.

When they buried Janey, forty years later, Phryne made him promise she would lie next to her.

He kept his promise when she went, and, eventually the three of them lay together - for eternity; because he was never going to leave Phryne and she would never leave Janey - ever.


End file.
